


Curious

by AnneScriblerian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Other, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneScriblerian/pseuds/AnneScriblerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How could Seamus not be curious?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curious

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling fic-ish, so I asked for a prompt on facebook. I got one from my fantastic cousin, Rebecca: "I've always been curious about Seamus. Perhaps a tale set in the Gryffindor boys' sleeping quarters after lights out is in order," and from the lovely Poultrygeist, the addendum: An apple, an owl, a candlestick. So here's a little story about our favorite Irish lad and some apples. Written in 2010.

Seamus Finnegan was an ordinary bloke. Well, he was a wizard, of course. But that was only to be expected at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was also a minor hero of the Second Wizarding War, which was truly excellent for getting girls and free butterbeer. But who wouldn’t enjoy that? It was all quite ordinary, really.

But since the war had ended and he and his classmates had gone back to Hogwarts to repeat their seventh year, Seamus had been feeling at a bit of a loss. It was brilliant to have Dean back at school, the year without him had been bearable only because Seamus knew his best friend was far better off in hiding than Seamus was at Hogwarts. Seamus’s face was still scarred from that time, in fact. Not that he minded, really. It made getting the girls and the butterbeer even easier, honestly.

Seamus couldn’t really put his finger on just what was missing. True, the celebrating had gotten old for everyone. And while they whinged about it to one another, he suspected that everyone who had survived the Battle of Hogwarts was happy to once again be safely subject to the school’s regular schedules and rules just as they had been before... that year. There was still plenty of free butterbeer on Hogsmeade weekends, but the flow of girls had pretty much been cut off. It was one thing to mess about with strangers; it was another thing to mess about with someone you would see in the Great Hall at every meal.

Lately he hadn’t even been looking at girls. He had been watching Harry Potter. Not because he had seen his friend’s dead body being carried out of the Forbidden Forest by Hagrid, and now saw him laughing and studying and eating... Well, ok. It was because of the eating. Harry had always eaten like a starving puppy, all eagerness and mess. But his manners, or rather his lack thereof, had always been eclipsed by Ron’s. Ron ate like a starving Hippogriff. But now that Potter had died and come back, he wasn’t so desperate for things anymore. He ate more like an ordinary person. Except for the apples.

Seamus had found himself staring, open-mouthed, when Harry ate apples. Dean had even noticed and had poked him in the ribs about it. Until Seamus pointed out that Ginny Weasley was certainly a clever, and lucky, girl to have chosen Harry over Dean, if the way Harry behaved with the fruit was an indication of anything. Now Dean studiously avoided even looking in Harry’s direction during mealtimes.

But Seamus couldn’t keep his eyes off of the spectacle. He had even noticed Severus Snape, of all people, watching Harry just as avidly as he did when apples were on the menu. Seamus had blushed furiously when he had met Snape’s eyes inadvertently one of those times. But the hook-nosed git really couldn’t say anything, could he? Not when he was just as guilty as Seamus was. So Seamus gave in to the inevitable, and he let himself look.

Harry went after apples like he went after the snitch. He inevitably snatched one as soon as the bowl appeared, and the first bite was over before Seamus could even look. But then... oh. Harry licked and sucked the apple like he was a starved vampire. He seemed to love the way the ragged edges of apple skin felt against his tongue, because he laved them with the flat of his tongue and poked them with the tip of his tongue and then he would suck the flesh of the apple again... By that point Seamus would be close to passing out, as the blood necessary for remaining conscious had migrated South.

Hermione noticed his paleness at mealtime, of course, but she didn’t connect it to Harry’s display. Seamus felt a bit sorry for her, and for Ron, because of it. But mostly he was glad that she was content to lecture him about sleeping properly and eating properly and not drinking so much butterbeer, rather than questioning him about why he was so very interested in Harry’s tongue.

Why the hell was he so interested? Seamus had no idea. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t quite competent with his tongue. He was Irish, after all. He had a national reputation to uphold. The girls he had been with had never had any cause to complain, and that was the truth. Nor did he lack for, ahem, oral stimulation himself. What better way to get close to a war hero than a quick blow job in the backroom?

It was just that... Harry was a man. He may have been short, he may have been young, but he was pretty much the epitome of masculinity in Wizarding culture. Harry wasn’t twee like Lockhart. He wasn’t old, or batty, like Dumbledore. And he wasn’t cruel like Snape or disgusting like Voldemort. He was just an ordinary bloke who had saved the world. And he had a tongue like a fiend’s. It made a bloke think things. Things that were definitely not ordinary.

And that’s why late one night Neville found Seamus ensconced behind his bed curtains with a transfigured candlestick, trying to see how far down his throat he could get it. They both turned red and Seamus almost choked to death. He was still sputtering and coughing as Neville rapidly retreated and pulled the bed curtains shut again.

“Seamus isn’t up for a trip to the kitchens, lads. Let’s go on without him.”

Oh no. Seamus didn’t imagine he’d be able to get up for anything after that humiliation. He rapidly transfigured the candlestick back to its original shape and replaced it where he had found it. After a couple of Scourgifys. He wasn’t asleep when his dorm mates returned, and he huddled in fear behind his curtains, certain that they would be swept open and he would be subject to the sort of ridicule that would surely castrate him. Literally.

But he didn’t hear his name so much as mentioned. And when he crept out of bed the next morning everyone acted normal. Just a couple of ordinary blokes, getting ready for another day of following rules and a rigid schedule. Seamus wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. That, more than anything, was what worried him.

At breakfast, Seamus had finally begun to relax when a school owl dropped a letter into his porridge. He gingerly lifted it out with two fingers, and attempted to wipe it clean of the glutinous white substance. Dean was snorting at him through his nose in a rather weak attempt not to laugh out loud. Seamus gave him a glare as he opened the sticky parchment.

It read, “If you’re still curious, I’ll be out in Greenhouse Eight during 5th period.”

Seamus looked up just as a bowl of apples popped onto the table right in front of him. An arm reached out right in front of his nose and snatched one. As Seamus turned his head to watch, Neville opened his mouth very, very wide and took a huge bite out of the apple. Neville chewed, swallowed, and then grinned. Seamus grinned back.

After all, Seamus Finnegan was just an ordinary bloke. How could he not be curious?


End file.
